


As We Sleep II

by Crowgirl



Series: Scars Remind Us [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:17:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ongoing discussion, and ramifications thereof, between Dean and Castiel about the after-effects of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As We Sleep II

XXI.

Castiel listens to Sam’s breathing slow and steady and slides him gently towards a good dream. This time, he does not exert himself to suggest one; the boy will find his own and soothe himself better than Castiel could ever do.

The man in front of him is the problem currently: Dean is tense, wet with sweat, his muscles drawn tight against dreamed pain as if he were being tortured all over again. Castiel could touch his thoughts, see exactly what Dean sees, but that would be another kind of rape and Castiel will not submit Dean to that.

Instead, he eases himself down in the bed beside Dean, soothes at him wordlessly, murmurs soft reassurance to him, talks nonsense until Dean’s breathing begins to slow. Castiel molds himself to Dean’s back, his hand on Dean’s arm, just below the elbow, his forehead at the base of Dean’s skull. He can smell sweat, cheap shampoo, a faint tang of alcohol and stale air from the bar, and, underneath all that, the heavy, sweet musk scent that is only on Dean’s skin.

He wants to kiss the back of Dean’s neck, taste his skin, kiss over every place the demons touched him, smooth out the pain, show him how perfect he is, how much Castiel loves him.

‘...th’fuck...’ Dean’s voice is thick and he coughs. ‘...Cas...?’

‘Yes.’

‘....th’fuck you doin’ here...’

Castiel has no answer for that.

‘...s’methin’s wrong?’

‘No. Go back to sleep, Dean.’

Dean mutters something into his pillow, coughs again, then stretches and turns on his other side, one of his hands finding its way onto Castiel’s stomach. ‘...was dreaming...’

‘I know.’ Castiel strokes Dean’s forehead, pushing soft hair that had once been stiffly gelled out of the way. He marvels at the feeling under his fingers: Dean’s skin is so smooth, soft, warm. He had no idea touching someone would feel like this, as if he could simply touch Dean’s skin for hours and not be bored.

Dean makes a small murmuring sound of content and nuzzles into Castiel’s shoulder. ‘...got...t’get you...better coat...’

‘Go to sleep, Dean.’

Dean mutters something inaudible, possibly not in English, and turns all the way towards Castiel. His muscles are still heavy with sleep and it takes him a couple of tries, Castiel unable to help because he does not understand what Dean is trying to do. Eventually Dean manages to enfold Castiel in as many limbs as possible: one knee nudging Castiel’s thigh, the other leg over his knees; an arm a warm drape over Castiel’s ribs, and the other arm fumbling a way under the pillow to curl under Castiel’s shoulders.

Castiel thinks that he may stop breathing. There is surely no way that having a semi-conscious body pressed against him should feel this perfect. Slowly, carefully, he slips his arm under Dean’s shoulders, linking his hands over the sleeping man’s ribs.

‘...s’better...’ Dean nods once, definitively, against Castiel’s shoulder, then Castiel can feel him slipping back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Anthem of the Angels," Breaking Benjamin, _Dear Agony_.


End file.
